What is Rabies of a Marriage? Ch. 01

Curiousss has graciously agreed to edit my works. I find him to be a superior wordsmith and am proud to have him associated with my stories. After he edits me, I still tinker with it some, so if you find anomalies, please remember, it was me. Thanks to Curiousss.

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We are the Wilson family. My wife, Melody, is thirty-one, tall and willowy, sensuous, with an easy smile and very self-confident. I am Bill, thirty-five, six feet tall, a little overweight and diabetic but, even at two hundred ten, still attractive to women. Despite that I am loyal and faithful to my wife. Our son, Bradley, is nine. We've been married almost ten years.

My best friend and his family, Pete and Marsha Stone are both thirty-five and their daughter, Mellissa, is also 9. Mellissa is a type 1 diabetic, whose health is kept under control with blood glucose monitoring and regular insulin injections. Pete is a big guy, six feet three inches and about two hundred thirty pounds.

Pete and I had been friends since third grade. We were next door neighbors. When my folks and I moved into his neighborhood in my third grade year, he and I hit it off and became fast friends, BFF, I think it's called.

We were in trouble together after we got our driver's licenses, we'd been caught drag racing our two cars against one another. Officer Fife didn't much appreciate our squealing tires, racing engines and high speeds on 'his' pavement, in 'his' town. We were Best Men at each other's weddings. We'd been thick throughout most of our lives, eating at one another's homes, overnights when we were kids, barbecues, etc. Our wives were best friends too.

Our tenth Wedding Anniversary was coming up and we wanted to do something really special. Melody and I had been talking for years about taking "The Great Canadian Train Ride" across Canada, from Toronto to Vancouver. It is a thirteen day, twelve night trip in dome cars, also with sleepers so we could take advantage of a beautiful scenic trip, and do something really different. It takes in the scenic Jasper, Lake Louise, Banff, and the Northern Rocky Mountains like no other trip. I'd actually wanted to take this trip since my college days.

Pete and I are both dentists and have thriving practices. We bought a building in Denver that suited us and went into partnership, remodeling it so we both shared a receptionist, waiting area, billing clerk, laboratory, rest rooms, that sort of thing, but had our own dedicated exam and work rooms as well as private offices.

We close our practices down each year for the month of July, taking the whole month off for some really worthwhile vacation time. Then, the rest of the year we don't take any time off, except for weekends and holidays, and we rotate on-call for emergencies on those, so we are pretty well tied to one another.

Pete's wife Marsha is a five feet four inch trim and sassy redhead. She has a bright, wonderful personality and works for one of the Urologists we know from Northglenn, a northern suburb of Denver. She's thin, petite but full of vigor and fun. She's great looking and, so far as I know, totally faithful to Pete.

Melody, my wife, is tall and sensuous, willowy, with luscious full lips, puffy breasts, lithe body, perfect hips and long legs with dainty feet. Wherever we go, men look at her. She turns the heads of high school kids and old men alike, to say nothing of those in our own age group. She's just one of those women who are blessed with superior looks. Personality wise, most never know her, because they can never get beyond looking at those delicious lips or hips. She doesn't work outside our home, though she could if she wanted.

Melody and I met in her freshman year of college. She was training to be a dental hygienist and I was becoming a dentist. We had some classes together as I was a graduate teaching assistant. I asked her out and we dated off and on for nearly three years. We got married in her junior year. We had Brad in her senior year. Melody did finish, getting her four year degree, but it took an extra year for her to do it.

I am four years older than her, but I had extra years of schooling, plus 2 years of internship, so I got my DDS before she got her four year degree.

Melody was wild in high school and even during college. While we were dating she admitted to having experienced other guys before we became serious and engaged. We dated off and on before we decided to get married. She knew Pete long before we got married, because Pete and I were together all the time, so they went back almost as far as she and I did, though I'd met her first, but introduced them on our second or third date.

I never knew for sure if they'd been intimate. Sometimes I kind of suspected that they had been during one of our breakups. Despite the possibility, they remained loyal to me, never changing how they acted toward me and I really had nothing for proof, other than an occasional uneasiness. There was never any hard evidence or real indication, or at least none that I recognized.

When Pete met Marsha and fell in love, it seemed there were no more 'sneaking suspicions' so I never pushed it. We were a foursome and partied hardy together lots of times. We all went a long way back, together.

Melody is a strange one in bed. When she is menstruating, she becomes sexually ravenous, almost 'rabid'. During a four or five day part of her cycle, I think she could have sex continually, 24/7 in her quest to scratch that itch. During that time of her month, we have almost nonstop sex, when I am home. Plain vanilla sex nowhere near meets her needs and desire for sexual fulfillment. She wants it rough and hard, lots of it. Many nights during our ten year marriage and three year courtship I'd have to get up and shower her menses off me before going to bed.

However, during the rest of the month, she is bland, sexually. She isn't demanding, and almost never initiates sex. Also, when I am done, she is done. She really doesn't seem to care one way or another. There doesn't seem to be any way to excite her, try as I might.

I asked a gynecologist friend about it once and he just shrugged and said, "Different women are different. I wouldn't worry about it if everything else is normal. If there's no excessive cramping, bleeding or other abnormality, let it run its course."

So, I learned to live with it. I know that once a month I'll get my socks screwed off for a few days - the rest of the time, I get by with whatever I just have to have, and no more.

In March, Melody and I decided to take Bradley on the Great Canadian Train Ride that summer. It would be the best family vacation we had ever had, and we couldn't wait for July so we could leave.

I mentioned to Pete what we had decided and he showed a great interest in the trip. He asked if I'd mind if he asked Marsha and maybe plan the trip so we could all go together.

It was great with me and I said, "We'd love it. Ask her and we'll get you the information so you can book it. You need to book right away though, so don't wait."

I told Melody about my conversation with Pete earlier that day. The strangest look swept across her face - it almost looked like arousal to me.

Marsha called that night and got the booking information from Melody - they had decided to go with us.

In June, before our trip, I was scheduled to be off on a Wednesday afternoon, which is common. Pete was just scheduling lightly and said he wanted to get out of the office early too. I didn't go golfing, like I usually would do, deciding instead to get caught up on some insurance paperwork, sign patient notes and the like. I stayed in my office, with the door closed so I wouldn't be interrupted.

About 4:45 pm, I hit a bump in my hitherto smooth-sailing paperwork, and needed to see Pete about a regulation we were supposed to be following. I pushed the intercom to his office and said, "Pete, you still here?"

A long silence followed, "Uh, yeah, whatcha need Bill?"

"Good, I'll just come over to your office; I need to ask you about this Medicare regulation." I switched off the intercom, stepped out of my office and walked the twenty-five feet to his office. I just opened his door and went in.

Melody was in there and they were breathing kind of hard. They were a little disheveled. Her hair was messy, their clothes rumpled. They acted like they'd been caught doing something they weren't supposed to be doing.

"Melody, what are you doing here?" I asked, looking at Pete then at her.

"Oh Bill, I thought you were golfing. I was just telling Peter about our trip, what we are expecting, that we're so excited. I was just saying that we'd been planning this for years and how you'd wanted to do this since college," she blanched

"Yeah?" I snorted, "What's up here guys? My wife and my partner bumping their uglies?" I queried, rage building in me.

"Bill, knock it off," Pete said, "We thought you were golfing and we were talking about the trip. Your birthday comes in July, while we'll be on the train, and we were talking about that, if you need to know the truth." He appeared relieved at his quickly thought-out excuse, but it was still an excuse!

I left the room without saying a word, walking out to where my car was parked in the shade. No wonder she hadn't seen it, I hadn't used my regular parking spot because it was so hot that day.

I got in and drove off. My cell rang repeatedly; Pete's office number, Melody's cell and finally Pete's cell. There were probably thirty calls in that first two hours. I beat her home, loaded a suitcase, hotfooted it out and got a room at the local LaQuinta Inn.

My cell phone rang at intervals all evening, up until about midnight. I had it on silent, so I'd see the light come on, but I did not answer it.

The next morning I was at the office at eight. I had a heavy patient load, with appointments stacked one after another. I had been trying to get everyone seen, who needed to be seen, before being off for a month. Pete had a heavy load that day too, for the same reason; I'd checked his appointment book.

During the day, several messages came in to reception from Melody for me. I told the receptionist I was, "too busy to take any calls today, so to tell Melody not to call because I am snowed under."

She still persisted, but so did I. The poor receptionist knew the Wilsons were feuding, but she didn't know how seriously. I hated my staff to be in the middle of this, but I couldn't do anything about it except talk to Melody, and I was not going to do that right now.

I slipped out of the office Thursday night before anyone could catch me and went to my LaQuinta room. Friday morning I was back at work, still fully loaded with work, patients one after another, and there was no letup.

Right around twelve-noon, Melody walked into the office, thinking I might have a lull for fifteen minutes while I scarfed down a sandwich. There were patients in each of my three exam rooms, employees everywhere plus Pete's contingent of staff and patients. There was no privacy, and a shouting match was out of the question, though I considered that choking her to death would be quiet, and I could do it in my office where I could remove her body hours later after everyone had left!

I couldn't do that but I could dream it. I think the patient sitting in the chair at that moment probably got a little too much Novocain, but she didn't have any pain during her procedure. My reputation for 'painless dentistry' would be intact!

Melody stood in the doorway of the exam room as I was working, bent over my patient, concentrating on my work. She stood there, staring at me.

My assistant said, "Dr. Wilson, uh, Mrs. Wilson is here."

"Oh, hello, dear, I'm snowed under right now, as you can see - can it wait?" I forced a cheery answer.

"Ok, uh, yes. What time will you be home honey?" she asked, just as forced, just as cheerily.

"It's the weekend tonight; I have patients until late and then some catching up to do on paperwork. It'll be really late, I'm afraid." I intoned, "Don't hold supper."

She just said, "Ok, see you later tonight then," turned around and walked out. She knew that I was steamed from my forced tone and words. Knowing me for a dozen years, she knew I'd address her when I was ready and not before.

I left a note on Pete's desk before I left the office. "9pm tonight here -- Bill."

When I walked back into the office at 9:10 pm, I found an agitated but contrite partner/friend.

"Dammit, Bill I spend enough time in this office, why tell me 9 pm if you weren't going to be here on time?" He started in.

"Because, you miserable sonofabitch, I'd have killed you if I'd come in here at 9pm. It took me a moment to take control of myself and calm down as I was remembering catching you two the other day. I just saved your miserable fucking life, so quit your fucking bitching."

"Jeeze, Bill, cool down. Nothing happened." He said.

"If nothing happened, it is only because I interrupted you," I seethed.

"You are out of control, Bill. If you aren't going to talk reasonably I'm leaving," he threatened.

"That's OK with me, I'm putting your ass on notice now. You lay a hand on my wife and your life will not be any fun, any more," I yelled, eyeball to eyeball with my partner.

I drove straight from the office to home. When I walked in, Melody was sitting at the table; she had been crying.

"Bill, I'm so glad you're home. Honey, I want to talk to you, please." She begged.

"Melody, first you will listen, and then you can talk," I said, sternly.

"I know you two have your stories worked out by now. I know you too well to be fooled by your lies. So, you get to make a choice, this may be your last choice as far as this marriage goes, but you do get it."

"Here it is: Tell me the truth, in full. If I sniff one hint of a ruse or a lie, I will move to end this marriage immediately. If you tell me the truth, no matter how damning it is to you, I will consider everything and decide when I am more in control; I'll wait until we get back from Canada," I said. "That is your choice."

"Oh, honey, I....well, OK, I love you," she began, twisting her hands, looking anxiously about her but not at me. It was a long silence as she decided what and how to tell me.

I sat expressionless glaring right at her face while waiting for her to speak.

"Billy, you know how I get just before and during my period. This isn't news to you, I am so horny, I can't help it, something happens to me. Most of the time, I wear you out and can get by. But, there have been times through the years when you either weren't available or couldn't quite get me where I needed to be, I...sometimes...I...went to Pete." She began trembling, looking at me, unsure if she was doing the right thing in telling me the truth about her and Pete.

"He's always been your best friend, and he's always been such a gentleman to me, and so helpful and safe. When we were in college, you were taking exams, cramming all night, you had to do well or you couldn't go on, and the subjects were so tough for you, remember?"

I sat mute, listening, not outwardly reacting. My hands were cold, my throat was dry, I wondered if I'd have a stroke, my head pounding.

"Well, I needed relief, and...Pete, well he was always around and safe. I knew I could trust him and he hadn't met Marsha yet, or if he had they weren't serious yet. He never came onto me; I just called him and asked if I could come to see him when you were in a study group one night. I went to his house, that one that he and those 4 guys rented together off campus. He was waiting for me out front when I pulled up, wondering if something was wrong. He was concerned for me," she said.

"I was so horny Bill, I couldn't help myself. I saw him and threw myself into his arms, kissing him and grabbing at his crotch and rubbing mine on his leg. I was beside myself. Pete took me upstairs and we had sex." She was crying, sobbing.

She looked at me with fearful eyes, wondering how I'd react, what I'd do. She was shaking and sobbing.

"Have you fucked him since?" I asked.

"Yes, several times through the years. Like I said, I knew he's safe and wouldn't hurt me. When you were out or unavailable; when I couldn't get enough from you, I knew I could call Pete and he could help me. His p...penis is so large; it can make me calm down sometimes. And, after he comes once, he can go a long time before he comes again, which is just what I need, you already know that," she wept.

"So, I'm not enough for you, you are out of control, need a second man to keep you serviced, can't use a dildo, is that about right?" I asked.

"Then," I continued, not waiting for her answer, "the rest of the month, I languish while you do not require your servicing. My needs are secondary to yours and for years you've felt like it is ok to fuck my best friend, behind my back, for your needs, because he is so much bigger than I am, AND he's safe and convenient?"

"Do not tell Pete, don't tell Marsha, and don't tell ANYONE that you've told me this, Melody. I am going to think about this and I want my options open. If I find out you've betrayed me further with him, protecting him from me, I won't be happy. Understand?" I said.

This is no weak willed woman. Melody is a woman of considerable allure, and she knows it. I know that she didn't need to beg me; there'd be dozens of men that could warm the cockles of her heart if she'd wanted. That she did seem to be repentant, even trapped inside her own body during 5 days per month, wasn't necessarily her fault. I do know that her proclivity for uncontrolled sexual lust and need for satisfaction is real. The facts cannot be denied, not even by a totally distraught husband. However, there are dildos and some medical remedies, if she'd only have sought them.

However my friend, my partner, my brother in all ways except blood was a different story. That is betrayal in the highest sense of the word, to me.

"Is there anyone else?" I asked her.

"No, never; I mean, when we were dating, before we'd, you know, gotten engaged there were some, but not after we committed." She said. "Oh, I'm such a rotten person. Oh, Bill, what am I gonna do? I'm so sorry," she cried remorsefully.

"You are sleeping in the guest room for now, for starters," I said. I went upstairs to bed. When her 5 days of oestrus visited her, I was not going to be available to her, that much I knew. It would hit her a few days after we were on the train in Canada, according to my figuring. I was going to lay in wait for my partner and sink his life, like he'd sunk mine.

We each took our own cars to DIA when we left for Toronto. We had so much luggage that it wouldn't all fit in one car plus all six of us, four adults and two kids. We had to pack for three weeks, even though the train ride was thirteen days, we had to spend a night in Toronto and a night in Vancouver, plus it's always good to pack a little extra for emergencies.

We got on the train on Friday morning and off we went, heading for Vancouver via the entire Canadian part of the continent.

Melody began to show signs of her monthly cycle after two days on the train, and I ignored her, refusing her attempts to mate, pushing her, intentionally, into Pete's arms. She held out a day and a half, and finally sought him out, bedding him in our sleeper during the afternoon of our third full day. I opened the door of the sleeper, unexpectedly to them, and they were furiously fucking; both were bloody, oblivious to anything but the clack, clack, clack of the train as they went at it. "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot," as the author said (WTF?), I said.